


Meanwhile - Back at the Starship

by cynical21



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical21/pseuds/cynical21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While awaiting the return of Qui-Gon and Padmé, the handmaidens get restless, and curious, about a certain young Jedi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meanwhile - Back at the Starship

**Author's Note:**

> All conjecture, of course, but if YOU were a nubile, curious, young handmaiden, with nothing better to do, confronted by the delectable figure of a certain Jedi padawan, what would YOU do?
> 
> As always, all praise and honor to the creator - GL

MEANWHILE - BACK AT THE STARSHIP 

 

Within the confines of the Nabooan vessel, the friction of the sandstorm against the hull was not unlike the swish of fine silk . It was neither loud nor distracting - just very persistent. 

There was something in that sound that set teeth on edge - even very white, very perfect Jedi teeth, that should have known better. Obi-Wan Kenobi acknowledged his own illogic with a tiny smile. Still, he made no move to retire for the night, but remained in the same position he had occupied since taking the last call from his Master, when he had learned of the unbelievable midi-chlorian count of the Skywalker child. The sand had settled for a while, its whisper falling into the pool of desert silence. But it had risen again, somehow more insistent in its sibilance. 

Behind him was the door that led to the sleeping quarters of the young queen of Naboo, and there had been no sound from within for some time. Still, when he stretched out with the Force, he discovered that there was at least one waking presence beyond that door, and he wondered if it was Amidala herself who found sleep so elusive on this strange night, or some among her group of handmaidens - her altogether too lovely, too lively group of handmaidens. 

He was careful to employ only the gentlest mind-touch, knowing that anything more would be unnecessarily intrusive. Even with such a tenuous reach, he was aware of a sense of warmth and gentle good humor. So maybe the queen and her handmaidens were enjoying some late-night camaraderie, but, if so, they were being very quiet about it. 

Obi-Wan tried to sink deeper into a meditative trance, seeking his own center, while maintaining the heightened awareness necessary for the protection of the queen. But he gave it up almost immediately. 

_Don't focus on your anxieties, Obi-Wan._

He heard the words in his mind, spoken in his Master's voice. And he knew that Qui-Gon was right. When was he not? But he still couldn't quite shake off the sense of foreboding that had lingered in the back of his consciousness ever since they had first approached the Naboo system. 

He frowned, and opened himself once more to the living Force, allowing it to flow into and through him, soothing him and expanding his awareness. But that feeling lingered, like an itch that demanded to be scratched, and he thought it was growing stronger with every passing hour. Some vestige of a great darkness flitted just beyond the grasp of his comprehension and seemed to taunt him with his inability to grab and hold it. Sea change eyes shaded from crystal blue to storm cloud gray as he tried unsuccessfully to dispel his swelling uneasiness, and he noted that the swish of the sand had abated again, leaving behind a sense of expectancy that was almost palpable. 

Finally, with a grimace that was very nearly an audible growl, the young Jedi sprang to his feet, and hurried to the hatch that led to the exit ramp, in the manner of a man who must either move or explode where he stands. By the time he reached the sculpted white sand, he was running at Force-enhanced speed, and his movements had accelerated to the point at which he was little more than a blur. With one swift maneuver, his Jedi robe, belt, and tunic were discarded, and the harsh azure brilliance of a lightsaber ignited to cast its cold dazzle into the night, and brush the pale gold of his skin with the sheen of alabaster. He plunged into a scripted series of moves and countermoves, and was soon lost in the internal cadence of the choreography. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Sabé and Rabé sat in companionable silence, sipping on mugs of the warm spiced wine favored by the aristocracy of Naboo. The tortuous trappings and elaborate raimant necessary to maintaining the fiction of the identity of the Queen of Naboo had been happily discarded when the 'queen' had retired for the night, and now Amidala's two most favored handmaidens - not to mention best friends - reveled in the ease of the moment. 

From her vantage point on the queen's high bed, Sabé had an excellent view of the monitor screen on the bedside console, which had been programmed to allow the queen to scan any section of the ship she might wish to see. Casually, the young handmaiden tapped a panel, and the viewscreen flickered with a new image - one outside the confines of the ship. Sabé's breath caught in her throat, and Rabé, ever sensitive to the moods of her companions, noticed instantly. 

"And exactly what are you looking at?" she asked, with a smile that wasn't quite a smirk. 

Sabé gave her friend a wicked grin. "Poetry in motion." 

Rabé laughed. "Well, don't be greedy." She moved to sit on the edge of the bed to share the view. 

"Oh, my stars," she said finally. "I haven't seen muscles ripple like that since . . ." Her voice trailed off. 

"Since when?" Sabé asked absently. 

"Forget it. I've never seen muscles ripple like that." 

On the viewscreen, the young Jedi was moving through his exercises with the grace of a dancer, but with the strength of a nerf bull. Even though the night air was quite chill and he wore only boots and trousers, his body glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and his padawan braid clung to his throat, wet and gleaming. 

"Lucky, lucky braid," breathed Sabé. 

"You know," said Rabé softly, "when he speaks . . ." 

Sabé nodded briskly. "I know, I know. The accent drives me crazy. It's totally unfair, you know. Something that looks like that should sound like a Tuscan raider or something." 

Rabé grinned. "You know neither one of us is going to be able to sleep tonight, don't you? Even a cold shower can only do so much." 

A strange light flared in Sabé's eyes. 

"Uh, oh, I know that look. What are you thinking?" Rabé asked, not bothering to conceal her first flash of suspicion. 

"That maybe we should do more than just sit here fantasizing." 

"Sabé, he's a Jedi." 

"So? He's not dead, is he?' 

Rabé glanced again at the screen and admitted with a rueful smile, "No. He's most definitely not dead." 

"Then where's the problem?" 

Rabé looked uncertain. "Aren't they like priests or something? Sworn to celibacy?" 

Sabé looked outraged. "Oh, puh-leeze! You expect me to believe that anybody - even the Jedi - would be dumb enough to waste that! No kriffing way." 

Sabé moved to the wardrobe and pulled out work-out garments. "Besides, we aren't going to attack him or anything, are we? He's free to say no, isn't he? I mean, we're not that desperate, are we?" 

They both looked at the viewscreen again, just as Obi-Wan executed a perfect body twist, coming to a stop on one knee in a classic lunge position, with his lightsabre extended before him. 

The handmaidens exchanged glances. "Speak for yourself," they said in unison, then shared a laugh. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Captain Panaka, chief of Naboo security, stood in the shadows within the ship and watched the young Jedi's movements with admiration and a rueful smile. He felt no envy for Kenobi; the life of a Jedi was a notoriously difficult and dangerous one, and he had a feeling that, for this particular Jedi, "difficult and dangerous" wouldn't even begin to cover it. He didn't know how he knew that; maybe it came from that place within him that his mother had always referred to as his "fey sense". But he did know it. It was almost like a visible shadow clinging to the young man, tarnishing the brightness of his promise. And the "promise" was so bright it was almost blinding. Nevertheless, Panaka sensed that great danger lay in wait for Obi-Wan Kenobi, to be followed by great tragedy. 

But, for the moment, the most immediate source of "danger" for the young Jedi was coming down the corridor, and Panaka turned to greet it. 

"I trust," he said softly, startling the two handmaidens, "that the 'queen' is resting comfortably." 

"Dead to the world," Sabé replied with a grin. 

"Don't you think it would be wise for the two of you to join her?" 

Sabé's grin vanished. "Is that an order, Sir?" 

Panaka saw the anger in her eyes, but refused to acknowledge it. "No. Just a suggestion. Our young friend doesn't need to be distracted from his duties." 

Rabé nodded toward the open hatch where Obi-Wan was still engaged in his torturous routine, having added a handful of drill remotes to the action. "If he's not distracted by _that_ , I doubt we'll make any difference." 

Panaka shook his head and his voice dropped to a near whisper. "Jedi or not, he's a twenty-something-year-old human male, with all the normal baggage that goes along with that. Do you really think a lightsaber and a few remotes can compete with a couple of shapely young women in tights?" 

Rabé was generally less assertive than Sabé, but she could stand her ground when necessary. "Just as he apparently needs some kind of physical release, so do we. We've been cooped up in this ship too long, Captain. We need a work-out." 

Panaka struggled to stifle a small smile. "Is that what you call it these days?" 

He leaned over until his eyes were on a level with those of both handmaidens. "I'm holding the two of you responsible. In the event anything happens that requires his attention, he had better be capable of responding. Instantly. Understood?" 

Both young women sobered. "Absolutely, Captain," said Sabé. "We never forget our duty to the queen." 

Panaka held their gazes. "Sometimes, that duty may not be crystal clear. It might even include preserving a deception that might appear to be unnecessary to you. But that isn't your call to make. And keep in mind that the Jedi see things that are hidden to most of us. They even see things that we might try to conceal." 

"We'll remember," Sabé agreed, and Rabé nodded. 

"Very well, then," said Panaka finally. "Enjoy your 'work out'." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Obi-Wan had been aware of his audience throughout his routine, but he had focused his attention on his own perspective, and paid no mind to their presence. Not until the two young women bounded down the ship's entrance ramp and moved into the sphere of his action. To prevent the drill remotes from seeking out these new, warm-blooded targets, he sent out a Force command for an immediate shut down. A strike from the remotes wouldn't do any real harm, of course, but it would sting tremendously, and he didn't think the handmaidens would appreciate being handled so indelicately. Although, in all fairness, his impression of all of Amidala's companions was one of competence and ability. 

"Good evening," said the two handmaidens, in unison. 

Obi-Wan, suddenly aware of his state of undress, stretched out his hand and called his tunic to him. "Ladies," he replied, as he pulled his undertunic over his head, "did you need to see me about something?" 

"Not specifically you," said Sabé, who was just slightly shorter than her companion. Obi-Wan was struck, not for the first time, by how similar the handmaidens all seemed to be to each other. "We just need a third body for a game of trambo." 

Obi-Wan hung his lightsaber from his belt, and then looked - really looked at the two young women, for the first time. He managed, barely, not to gawk. Gone were the voluminous gowns and capes in which the handmaidens were usually draped; both wore short, sleeveless body suits and tight leggings, which left nothing at all to the imagination concerning the shape and firmness of the bodies within. 

"Trambo?" he managed to mumble. "What's that?" 

Pleased beyond all reason with the look in the Jedi's eyes, Sabé moved closer to explain the rules of the game, and inhaled the delightful male scent of him as he leaned toward her to catch the words she spoke with deliberate softness. A wave of what could not possibly be lightheadedness swept over her. 

_For heavens sake, he's just a guy._ She was impatient with her own apparent vulnerability. But a tiny little voice - the one that she could never quite silence, no matter how hard she tried - refused to allow her to evade her own truth. _Right - and a star is just a ball of gas_

Rabé, in the meantime, was shooting her an "Oh, brother" look. 

"Never mind all the finesse," she said firmly. She hefted an oblong object in her hand, with a series of flashing lights embedded along its long axis. "You run out toward a chosen target; one of us throws this, and you try to catch it while the other one of us tries to keep you from catching it. Got it?" 

Obi-Wan allowed his puzzlement to show on his face. "That's it?" 

"Not quite," said Sabé, "but you can learn as we go along. Just remember one thing. It doesn't always go where you think it will. 

"Here - give me your hand." 

Obi-Wan dutifully extended his left hand, and Sabé guided his thumb into a recess on the surface of the oblong object. He felt a tiny nip against his thumb, and withdrew it to find a dot of blood on its surface. 

"This is called the tramplet," she said, "and it just sampled your DNA, so it will recognize you." 

"And it needs to do that for what reason?" 

"To decide if it will allow you to catch it." 

"And if it decides not to?" 

Sabé regarded him impatiently. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? I mean, it wouldn't be much of a challenge if it wanted to be caught, now would it?" 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond, then decided against it. Mostly because he couldn't figure out what he should say. 

"Okay," said Rabé, as Sabé moved off into the night. "Guess I'm throwing. Obi-Wan, that small boulder off to your left - 40 meters or so - that's your first target. Ready?" 

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" 

Rabé grinned. "Famous last words." And she let the tramplet fly, strong and fast. It rose some ten meters straight up before sailing off toward the target rock. 

Obi-Wan took off at a dead run, which, in Jedi terms, is very fast indeed, and Force leapt high in the air to intercept the hurtling object, which appeared to be falling straight into his hands, until it took a 90 degree turn in mid-air and sailed off to his left. 

"What the . . . ?" Obi-Wan twisted his body and reached again for the elusive tramplet, only to have it shoot over his head. 

"Hey," cried Sabé, "no Jedi tricks. Levitation is definitely not allowed." 

With a twinge of irritation, Obi-Wan allowed himself to drop to the sand, and then found himself up-ended, rolled, and ultimately flattened by what felt like a stampeding bantha. As he tumbled across the coarse ground, he felt great drafts of sand and gravel force itself beneath the loose folds of his undertunic, and abraid against his belly. 

"Son of a Sith!" he muttered, as he fetched up against his target boulder with sufficient force to rattle those oh-so-white, oh-so-perfect Jedi teeth. 

When he raised his head, he found Sabé sprawled across his chest. "So," she said with a grin, "how do you like it?" 

He blinked. "You knocked me down?" 

"None other," she answered. 

He looked stunned. " _You_ knocked me down. I can't believe that. You knocked me down." 

"Hey," she said, with some asperity, "get over it. I've knocked down better men than you." 

Obi-Wan sat up and dumped her in the sand without ceremony. He favored her with a smile that, had she known him better, she would have recognized as a danger sign. "Is that a challenge?" he said softly. 

"Take it any way you like, Jedi," she answered, with a faint sneer. 

His smile grew broader. "I'll take it any way I can get it. Now let's go over the rules of this game one more time." 

Rabé watched the interaction between the two on the ground with a rueful expression. It took a minimum of three to play trambo, but it only took two to engage in what seemed to be developing between the Jedi and the queen's prime handmaiden. 

Still, it was almost two hours later when the three were sufficiently exhausted to be unable to continue their game. The Jedi had proven to be a fast learner, once he had realized that strategy and timing were as critical to success as strength and agility. He also demonstrated that superior physical ability didn't necessarily depend on Jedi traits. At least, if he had used his bag of tricks, he had done so with such discretion that neither of the handmaidens had been able to detect it. Sabé, however, who really hated to lose - at anything - was convinced that he had cheated when, ultimately, he overpowered her last desperate attempt to deflect him from his final target. He had managed to snare the tramplet, and throw himself across the target area, with Sabé firmly attached to his back. 

Their limbs hopelessly entangled, the two rolled down a rocky incline and come to rest in a bid of red sand. Bruised and breathless, both erupted into helpless laughter. 

"Not bad, for a rookie," gasped Sabé, when she regained sufficient breath to speak. 

Obi-Wan traced a bruise on her jaw with his finger. "You play this often?" he asked incredulously. 

"Every day when I was growing up," she answered. 

He shook his head. "Life expectancy must be very short on Naboo." 

She laughed. "Nah. We're tough. Besides, can you honestly say you didn't have fun?" 

He started to answer, then reconsidered. "You know," he said finally, "I did. I really did." 

"See? Sometimes, all it takes to forget your troubles, is getting bruised and abused." 

He grinned as he rolled up on his elbow and looked down at her. " I guess I should thank you, just as soon as I figure out if any bones are shattered beyond repair." 

"You're welcome," she said, looking up into eyes that were now intensely blue. "You could show your appreciation in another way, you know." 

"How's that?" 

"You could get off me so I can get up." 

The bright red flush that stained his cheeks was almost painful to behold, as he sprang up and pulled her to her feet. "Sorry," he mumbled. 

"Come on, Jedi," she laughed. "Let's go get something wet and cold." 

She danced away from him, and raced across the sand toward the ship. Obi-Wan followed more slowly, and felt rather than saw Rabé fall into step beside him. 

When he glanced at her, he saw that she was regarding at him with a peculiar expression. 

"What?" he said tentatively. 

"Nothing. You were very good, you know. She almost never loses." 

He shrugged. "Nobody wins 'em all." 

Unexpectedly, she laughed. "That depends, doesn't it?" 

"On what?" 

She stopped abruptly, reached up and grabbed his Padawan braid, pulled his face down and touched her lips to his, ever so lightly. "On your definition of winning. G'night, Padawan." 

She sprinted to the ship and ran up the ramp, where Sabé waited at the top, wearing a smile that held a tiny measure of uncertainty. "And what was that all about?" she demanded, softly enough to be below the threshold of Jedi hearing. 

Rabé grinned. "Just a sip, before you empty the bottle. Sweet, sweet red wine, Hon. But watch yourself. I'd give huge odds that this taste might prove to be addictive." 

As one, they turned back to watch the young Jedi's approach, before Rabé departed with a final smile and a slow wink. 

Obi-Wan paused to retrieve his clothing from the sand. But as he reached for it, a flash of Jedi insight assailed him. His lightsaber was in his hand, ignited and raised to strike, before any coherent thought had a chance to form. 

"What is it?" called Sabé from the open hatch. 

"Stay there," he replied firmly, his eyes sweeping the area around the ship; his Jedi senses extended further, reaching toward the low mountains visible in the distance. The night was suddenly thick with menace, and he knew that this was no vague possibility of danger; this was real and close by, drawing ever nearer. 

He stretched out toward the settlement, visible in the distance, and was relieved to find the Force signature of his Master, wrapped in the serenity of sleep. Whatever the threat was, it did not yet threaten Qui-Gon, or, at least, it had not yet intruded on his consciousness. 

_Padawan?_ Obi-Wan smiled. Even in sleep, his Master was always aware of any contact with his apprentice. 

_Sleep, Master._ The young Jedi sent the message as strongly as he could. As intense as his awareness of the threat was, he understood that the danger was not yet immediate. 

Still, when Sabé started down the ramp toward him, he stopped her with a raised hand and a firm but gentle Force push. Which, he noted with a small separate section of his consciousness, she did not like at all. 

"What," she demanded coldly, "do you think you're doing?" 

"Listening," he answered absently. 

"To what?" 

He sighed and extinguished his lightsaber, but his eyes continued to peer into the night. "It's gone now." 

"What did you sense?" 

He shook his head. "No specifics. A dark disturbance in the Force." 

Sabé knew enough about Jedi disciplines to take him at his word. "Close?" 

"Closing in," he answered, "but not quite here yet." 

Realizing that she was no longer immobilized, she strode down the ramp and stopped just inches away from him. He was discomfited to find that her eyes were blazing. "You need to keep this in mind, Jedi," she said, so angry her voice was shaking. "Your job may be to defend the galaxy, but mine is to protect my queen. I can't do that when you pin me like a bug on a board. Don't-ever-do-that-again!" 

His gaze was cool, and she thought she saw a trace of amusement in his eyes. _And don't you dare laugh at me!_

Abruptly, his eyes widened, and his breath caught oddly in his throat. 

"I wasn't laughing," he said, ever so softly. 

Obi-Wan was sure that, at sometime, he had heard and/or read about someone's mouth falling open in astonishment, but he had never actually seen it happen before. Sabé looked on the verge of gasping for air. 

"You heard me?" she finally managed. 

He was suddenly busy putting on his robe and rearranging his clothing. "Happens sometimes," he said, very casually. "Didn't you say something about a cold drink?" 

With that, he strode into the ship, without another glance in her direction. 

She followed more slowly, a speculative gleam in her eye. _Oh, no, Big Boy. If you think we're through here, think again. I don't know what just happened, but I'm going to find out. You heard my thoughts, and that is not something that "just happens sometimes"._

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
In the end, they settled for spiced tea, which was definitely not cold, but was, somehow, soothing and appropriate for the ambiance of this very long night. As they sipped, they took stock of their various scars and injuries from the game. 

"You're going to have a bee-u-ti-ful shiner," he said with a grin, noting the greenish cast under her left eye. 

Her answering smile was gleeful. "Well, at least I'm not going to look like someone gave me a love bite. Take a peek in the mirror, oh, brave knight." 

"I'm not a knight," he said absently, as he ran his fingers over the abrasion on his throat. His tone was one of someone making a remark made so often it had become rote. 

"So explain the difference to me," she said. "What makes Master Jinn a knight, and you, not a knight?" 

"I haven't been through the final trials yet. The Jedi Council hasn't determined that I'm ready." 

Her gaze was sharp. "Do you have any idea how bizarre that sounds to me? I mean, I saw you fighting by Qui-Gon's side. I've seen what you can do. And even I, who have about as much Force sensitivity as a rock, can feel the strength of your abilities. I think your precious Jedi Council lives too much in their ivory tower. They need to come down from their rarified atmosphere and take a dose of reality." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said with a grin, as he lifted his tunic to examine a patch of bloody, almost shredded skin on his abdomen. 

"Ouch," she said abruptly. "That really looks nasty. Must have been that first hit." She couldn't resist a victorious grin. "Got you where it hurt with that one." 

She rose and went to a storage cabinet to retrieve a medkit. 

"I'll do it, " he said, reaching for the kit. 

Archly, she held the kit out of his reach. "I inflicted the damage," she said with a smile. "It's only fair that I fix it. Take off your tunic." 

Obi-Wan hesitated, then slowly removed layers of tunic and undertunic. The nasty abrasion extended across his abdomen down toward his right hip. Grains of sand and bits of gravel still clung to streaks of semi-dried blood. 

"Climb up on the table," she said abruptly. "This is going to take some time." 

She was right; it did take time. And it did take a certain amount of Jedi pain control, as she cleansed the wound thoroughly, before applying bacta gel, and a bandage. In addition, it also required a different type of self-control, as her fingers caressed his skin with excruciating delicacy. Obi-Wan was several shades paler than normal when she finished. 

As he was putting his shirt back on, she spoke quietly. "You lied to me." 

"What?" he said abruptly. "When?" 

"Reading my thoughts. That doesn't just 'happen sometimes'. Does it?" 

He avoided her eyes. "No," he said finally. "I've never had it happen before, except for my Master, or, occasionally, another very strong Jedi." 

She ducked her head to look up at him, and he was forced to return her gaze. "So what does it mean?" 

His sigh was very gentle. "It doesn't mean anything, because it can't mean anything." 

"Because you're a Jedi knight?" 

"Because I'm not - yet." 

She nodded. "Is it okay if I say that I think this whole thing sucks?" 

He smiled. "It's fine, and, sometimes, I agree." 

He walked with her to the door of the queen's quarters, his eyes dark with things unspoken. 

As he opened his mouth to say good night, she placed her fingers across his lips. 

"Would you like to come in for a brandy?" she said softly. 

"I don't drink brandy," he answered. 

"That's okay," she whispered. "I don't have any." 

"Sabé . . .", he breathed. 

"Shut - Up." she said, very distinctly, as she rose on tiptoe, and kissed him. Deliberately. Soundly. Thoroughly. And very, very well. 

With a soft groan, he took her in his arms, and the kiss deepened. He tasted the sweet spiciness of her mouth as her lips opened to him, as her body molded to his as if made for his touch. 

They pulled away from each other at the same exact moment, both knowing that it was - it had to be - now or never. 

With infinite gentleness, he traced a crescent-shaped bruise on her jawline with his thumb. Then - abruptly - she was through the door and gone, and neither of them, if asked, could have been certain if it was her desperate reflex or his reluctant mind push that propelled her. 

Obi-Wan spun away, into the shadows of the corridor, and then, very deliberately but very quietly, banged his head against the bulkhead, barely able to stifle a groan. 

The voice from the next doorway down the corridor was very soft, but still managed to startle the young Jedi. "I think it's safe now," said Panaka, not without a certain measure of sympathy. 

"Excuse me?" Obi-Wan managed to reply. 

"The wall - I don't think it's going to collapse if you step away from it. But I understand if you wish to go on holding it up, for a while longer." 

The Jedi said a silent prayer of thanks to the Force that it was too dark for the violent flush he felt on his face to be visible. "I was just . . . " He couldn't find the words. 

"You know," said Panaka, apparently ignoring Obi-Wan's failure to articulate, "I spend most of my life working in proximity with an entire bevy of young, nubile, beautiful, healthy women, who frequently behave in a manner guaranteed to drive a man - any man, up to and including a Balastrian eunuch - to distraction." 

Obi-Wan, for the first time, shifted his focus from his own physical condition to concentrate on what the security chief was saying. "How," he whispered finally, "do you cope?" 

Panaka's smile was bittersweet. "The shower in my quarters has an extra setting. I call it 'The Handmaiden Antidote'." He then raised his arm and pointed through the open doorway behind him. "Be my guest." 

It was a little surprising to both of them that the young Jedi was capable of moving so quickly, all things considered. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

In that curious suspension of reality that precedes the dawn of new days, Obi-Wan had managed to restore his serenity and find his center of meditation. Sleep, he knew, would not come; nor was it necessary, as meditation frequently replaced sleep as a method of regeneration for the Jedi. It could not be maintained indefinitely, of course; sooner or later, the body would simply shut down and refuse to respond until deep, cleansing sleep had restored it. But, for now, under these circumstances, meditation would serve the purpose, while allowing him to maintain an acceptable level of vigilance. 

_Padawan._

Obi-Wan managed not to groan. _Aren't you supposed to be asleep, Master?_

 _I might ask the same of you_. A trace of amusement threaded through Qui-Gon's thought. 

_I thought I'd better stay awake. The disturbance in the Force is growing stronger._

Qui-Gon's smile was quite visible in his Padawan's mind. _Yes, it is. But that isn't what has kept you awake. At least, not entirely. Is it?_

Obi-Wan sighed, and managed, somehow, not to think that it was a waste of time to try to hide something from his Master. _No, Master._

There was a brief silence, as Qui-Gon appeared to consider his next comment. _To be a Jedi, my young Padawan, is not to give up being human. I am pleased that you have managed to avoid succumbing to temptation. And I know the choice is not easy._

Obi-Wan stirred, suddenly remembering, with surprising intensity, the degree of his earlier discomfort. _You have no idea._

 _Oh, but I do._ Qui-Gon's mental chuckle was gentle, and comforting. _What we must next learn, is how not to get into such situations in the first place._

Obi-Wan allowed himself to remember the trambo game, and the sensations he had enjoyed and endured throughout the night. 

_Yes, Master._

He did not argue with Qui-Gon, but a small voice within him stubbornly insisted that he didn't really want to learn how to avoid such events. And he rather thought that he heard an answering voice within his Master agree with him. 

_No, you didn't._ Qui-Gon was projecting his sternest mental image. 

Obi-Wan just smiled. Sometimes the official Jedi philosophy was just a hair too official, too bloodless to be comfortably espoused by the maverick knight that Qui-Gon was known to be. And, for that, Obi-Wan was endlessly thankful. 

_So, should I assume that you wish you had avoided that aerobics instructor on Malastare? Or the dancer on Alderaan? Or what about the archeologist on Dantooine? Or the . . ._

_Padawan?_

_Yes, Master._

 _Have I ever told you what it's like to have a memory wipe?_

Obi-Wan's smile grew broader. _No, Master._

_Then you should trust me when I say that you don't want to know. So-o-o. . ._

 _So I should exercise the better part of valor - and shut up?_

Qui-Gon's chuckle was almost physically audible. _That's my smart padawan, who always knows exactly when to draw the line!_

Once more, Obi-Wan remembered the sensations - physical and emotional - he had experienced that night, and let his sigh communicate itself to his Master. _Is it always going to be so hard?_

The thought occurred to both of them at the same exact instant, and, suddenly, the two Jedi were seized by gales of laughter, which both tried to stifle to avoid waking everyone around them. Between guffaws, Qui-Gon managed to send, _Would you care to rephrase that?_

But Obi-Wan was beyond coherent response. It wasn't that funny, and they both knew it. But it was a moment of shared warmth that they both needed. Guffaws finally faded to occasional chuckles as both let themselves sink into a sort of communal meditation. With shared consciousness, they awaited the birth of a new day, and allowed the comfort of their mental contact to shield them - just for a little while - from the threats they both knew it would bring. 

 

The End 

**********************


End file.
